NO OTHER WAY (Harry Hunter Mystery Book 3)

by Willow Rose

  “What did he do to make you so mad? Come on, talk to me.”

  That’s when I finally got my reaction. Nick lifted his eyes and looked into mine while I continued, “The way I see it, you had enough. You got angry, maybe you were even scared of him, and that’s why you pulled the gun. And you might not want to tell me or anyone why, but I’m not letting him get away with it, you hear me?”

  The guard signaled for me that my time was up and went to grab Nick. He stared at me, his green eyes piercing through me. Then as he rose to his feet, he finally spoke while being pulled away, “I remember you, Detective. I remember you.”

  Chapter 11

  “I think he was about to talk just when they took him away.”

  My dad looked at me. We were sitting at the dinner table and had just finished our pizza. I had been to late afternoon therapy with Camille, and Josie was in her room doing her homework.

  “And what did he say?” My dad asked and grabbed another slice of pizza, even though he had stopped eating minutes ago. My dad was very fond of food in general, especially the unhealthy kind.

  “He said he remembered me,” I said. “From the day he shot his dad, he remembered me. I made a connection with him, which no one else has been able to do.”

  My dad chewed and swallowed. He washed it down with iced tea. “So, what will you do next?”

  “I’m gonna go back in a couple of days and see him again,” I said. “Maybe he’ll finally open up to me and talk then; maybe I can get the whole story. I don’t feel good about this case, especially not about the father. Something is off, and the boy is the one taking the fall.”

  “So, you believe the father might have hurt the kid, is that it?”

  I leaned back with a deep sigh. “Maybe. In my book, it takes a lot for a fifteen-year-old to try and kill his own dad. And I remember he said stuff to him before he pulled the gun out.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Like he had been lying to him all of his life, that he was done trusting him. Something like that,” I said and sipped my own iced tea.

  “So, you believe it has to do with his mother’s death, am I right?”

  I exhaled and drank again. “Yes. Of course, I do.”

  “Did they suspect foul play in her death?” he asked, reaching over for yet another slice and biting into it. My dad had gained a lot of weight in the years since my mom died. She was the one who reminded him to stop eating and to exercise. He kept himself fit for her sake, but now that she wasn’t here anymore, he had let himself go. I wondered if I should say something. I decided not to. He was in his seventies and didn’t have to look good for anyone. He could have his pizza and enjoy it if he liked. I just wanted him to live long and stay with us for many years and not develop heart issues or anything like that.

  “They concluded that she drowned, but the case was never closed. I found it when looking around a little and had the files sent up here from the Key West archives. Kate Taylor and two of her best friends were on a road trip to Key West. According to these women, it was Kate’s thirty-fifth birthday, and she wanted to spend it with her friends, partying in Key West and then go swimming with dolphins in Key Largo. But they only made it to Key West. They partied that night, and she was seen dancing with some guy—they searched for him for a long time. All they knew was that his name was Matt and that he was tall and had brown hair and blue eyes. That’s it. The girl’s friends reported her missing the next day when she didn’t come back to the hotel. At first, they thought she was out with this guy, and that she’d come back eventually, but when she didn’t, they went to the police. The police searched for her for several days, and three days later, a fisherman found her floating in the shallow water, hidden under the mangroves. They concluded she had died from drowning. Maybe she went swimming at nighttime and got in trouble.”

  “But the case was never closed, you say?”

  “No. They kept looking for this Matt guy, thinking he might be able to shed light on how a very good swimmer like Kate could suddenly drown. Was she pushed in? Did she fall from a boat? She had no bruises on her body, so there was no sign of being forced. So, what happened? It ends there.”

  My dad nodded pensively. “So, you think the dad might have killed her? The Miami-Dade County State Attorney?”

  I shrugged. “She was away without him, dancing with another man. He could have followed her there; he could have gotten jealous, who knows?”

  “You think Nick knows, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “It would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?”

  Chapter 12

  I was running late for Camille’s afternoon appointment and rushed in through the doors, pushing her wheelchair ahead of me.

  It had been two weeks since we started coming to the treatment center, and I was finding it increasingly more and more difficult to be everywhere I was needed. Josie was complaining because I was never at home anymore, while Fowler was complaining because I didn’t show up in time for morning briefings, even though I had told him I had to be at the treatment center every morning at nine and every afternoon at five. My cases were being neglected as I seemed to be trying to be several places at once, ending up being nowhere. At least, that’s how it felt. When I was at work, my mind was constantly at home, thinking about all the stuff I needed to do, all the laundry I hadn’t done, all the dishes in the sink, and the dental appointments for Josie, along with her volleyball games and practices, trying to figure out how I was supposed to drive her there while going to the treatment center with her mother. On top of it all, I had to remember to make a lunch for Josie every day and figure out what to cook for dinner.

  It was a lot to balance at once.

  While Camille received her treatment in the hyperbaric chamber, most of my thoughts were with Nick Taylor. I had been going through the old case files of his mother’s death again and again and read every article that was ever written about her disappearance, and every time, it came down to the mysterious Matt. The guy she had been with on the night she died. No one seemed to know who he was or had even seen him when the police asked them back then. Not even the bartender at Sloppy Joe’s, where they were drinking and dancing, could remember him. It was just the two friends.

  Or was it?

  While Camille was inside her chamber, I suddenly realized something. I flipped a couple of pages in the case files until I reached the two statements taken by the police—the first interviews with Kate Taylor’s two friends, Joan and Kristin. There was something about them that had rubbed me the wrong way from the beginning when I first read through them.

  They weren’t a match. And in the places they were a match, they were too much of a match, too similar, down to the choice of words. I didn’t like how they both said that she was bummed out about her marriage and that she needed to blow off some steam, and she wished she could just disappear. They were some very distinct sentences and sounded almost rehearsed…like they had memorized them. And then there was the thing about the guy, Matt. Only the first woman, Kristin, spoke about him on her own. She talked about him like he had been there all evening and said that Kate was all over him—that she was crazy about him. Whereas her other friend Joan didn’t even remember him when asked, or maybe she didn’t want to mention him? Could she be covering for him? Did she know him? While Kristin described him as tall, brown hair and blue eyes, Joan called him bald and stated that she couldn’t really remember him and that she didn’t believe that Kate was very interested in him and that she wouldn’t cheat on her husband. Meanwhile, according to Kristin, she would definitely be able to cheat on her husband.

  It didn’t match up.

  Who was telling the truth?

  Was Joan lying to protect this guy?

  I leaned back, running a hand through my hair, wondering about this and why they hadn’t looked more deeply into this ten years ago, when Doctor Kendrick came in, smiling. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail today, and it made her look younger. Her brown eyes smiled at me.
>
  “I think she’s done for today. You ready to take her home?”

  Chapter 13

  I drove up in front of my house, my mind still occupied by Kate Taylor’s death, going through the many possibilities, always returning to the one theory I couldn’t escape: That Andrew Taylor, Kate’s husband and Nick’s father, killed her in a fit of jealous rage, angry that she spent the night with some other guy, dancing and maybe even sleeping with him on her thirty-fifth birthday, and that Joan somehow knew this Matt guy and wanted to protect him.

  I turned off the engine with a deep sigh, then got out and grabbed the wheelchair from the back and rolled it up to the door, then opened it and looked in at Camille. Usually, she would be half asleep at this point, tired from her treatment, but not today. Today, she looked at me and smiled, almost laughed as I peeked inside to help her out. Seeing this and hearing her light laughter, I couldn’t help laughing too.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked. “Was it something I said?”

  Knowing she couldn’t answer, I bent over to get her seatbelt off, but as I did, she reached out her hand and grabbed mine. With a light gasp, I lifted my head and looked into her eyes. She was smiling widely while we were holding hands, lifting them in the air. It was a coordinated maneuver that I knew she hadn’t been able to do before. Our eyes locked, and then she spoke, “Th-Thank…you.”

  I almost lost it at this moment. Until now, she hadn’t been able to utter more than one word, and usually, it would make no sense and be completely out of context. Like when she told me someone had tried to kill her, she simply yelled out our daughter’s name. This was different. This was her actually speaking to me.

  “What did you say?” I asked, my eyes watering.

  “Thank…you,” she repeated, then much to my surprise, she continued: “For…for all you h-have done. I don’t deserve it.”

  The words spoken were so clear and flowed from her mouth like it was barely difficult at all. Tears sprang to my eyes as I stared at her, still while we were holding hands and she moved hers in a coordinated fashion, pulling both of our hands up and down.

  “I…I don’t know what to say. Camille. The hand…the movements…and you’re speaking!”

  I said it while almost squealing. She smiled and nodded, tears spilling onto her cheeks.

  “It’s working,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. The treatments. They’re really working!”

  She nodded again while crying.

  I lifted my head, then grabbed her head between my hands and looked into her eyes.

  “You’re back, Camille.”

  She lifted her hand and touched my cheek, then wiped away a tear that had escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. The movement was small and seemingly insignificant, but not to me. To me, it was bigger than any moonwalk. I grabbed her hands and pulled her out of her seat, then stood with her in my arms for a few seconds, letting her stand on her feet; then, once I sensed she had balance, I let go. She stood for a few seconds, staring at me like I had abandoned her, but then realized she was standing on her own, actually standing on her own two feet. She wasn’t leaning on the car, and not on me either.

  I nodded, then reached out my hands.

  “Come.”

  Camille took one step toward me, then another before she fell forward into my arms, her legs deflating beneath her due to the lack of muscles after years of not being used while she was stuck in a bed and chair.

  I grabbed her, placed her in her chair, grinning so loudly that Josie must have heard it inside the house because she came running out onto the porch.

  “Dad? What’s going on?”

  “Your mom,” I yelled as I helped Camille sit in her chair. “She…she walked! She actually stood and then walked two steps toward me on her own.”

  Josie shrieked and ran down the stairs toward us.

  “Really? She did?”

  I couldn’t hold back my tears as Josie threw herself into her mother’s arms. Camille chuckled and cried at the same time, while Josie held her close.

  “And she spoke,” I said, wiping tears away from my cheeks. “She spoke real sentences, several of them.”

  “Really?” Josie said and looked at her mother. “Is this true? You’re better now, like really better?”

  Camille nodded. “I…am.”

  Chapter 14

  Jean was sitting in her kitchen, eating Ramen noodle soup since she wasn’t in the mood for cooking. She hadn’t been for quite a while now, probably ever since she stopped cooking for Harry and his family. It was like it was pointless now that it was just herself and not an entire family who needed her.

  She missed being needed.

  Jean sighed and looked into her soup. A lot seemed pointless these days. She was staying away from Harry, giving him his space and letting them be a family, but what did that mean for her? Where did that leave her?

  Destined to be alone for the rest of her life?

  You fell in love with the wrong guy.

  That’s what her mother would have said if she ever told her about him, which she never would. Her mother could be very judgmental when she wanted to, and she wanted to…a lot. It was like she enjoyed watching Jean lose confidence and feel like a child again. It was one of the reasons Jean never involved her in anything in her life. She kept her mother at a distance so she wouldn’t be able to criticize her for her choices in life.

  But this one, she would have been right about. You blew it, Jean. You wasted your love on a man that wasn’t available.

  She had barely finished the thought, feeling sorry for herself, when she heard the screaming from outside in the street. It made her rush to the window and look out. There they were, Josie, Harry, and Camille.

  Jean walked out on the porch, then looked down at them. As she stood there, Harry spotted her and called out to her.

  “Jean! It’s amazing!”

  Jean walked down the stairs and approached them, heart pounding in her chest like a hammer.

  “She walked,” Harry said as Jean came close. He had tears in his eyes and his voice was breaking.

  “And talked,” Josie added. “God is healing her. God is so good!”

  “He sure is. Isn’t it wonderful?” Harry asked.

  Jean looked at him. She wanted to scream. Of course, it was wonderful. Of course, it was a miracle and worth celebrating.

  But it also shut down her hope of ever being with Harry, of him ever putting Camille in a home. If Camille was really coming back, Jean didn’t stand a chance. She knew it was selfish to think like this since she should be thrilled for them, and in a way, she was. She just wasn’t thrilled for herself, for her own sake.

  She was devastated.

  Jean forced a smile through her tears. “That is wonderful news, Harry, really. I am so happy for y’all.”

  “It’s the new treatment,” Harry said. “I’ve seen little improvements every time we’ve gone. Like her being more alert, her looking at me more when I spoke, and smiling more. Little things. And today, she took a huge leap forward. I have to say it was hard to believe that there would ever be any improvement. But here we are. I can’t believe it, Jean.”

  Jean swallowed and nodded while looking into his sweet eyes, the very eyes she loved so dearly. She felt her eyes tear up and bit her lip.

  “I should…I have to get back. But congratulations to all of you. It’s amazing; it truly is.”

  While still speaking the last few words, Jean turned around and hurried toward her home. She walked up the stairs, then turned to look at them. As they rolled Camille back into the house, she made her decision.

  It was time to move on.

  Chapter 15

  “Thank you, God, for bringing Camille back to us. We pray we’ll continue to see improvement in her and that she’ll recover completely. We know you can and will do it because you love us so much. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Josie repeated.

  She was lying in her bed, PJs on,
and I realized that she had grown out of them again. We’d had a nice evening together, eating pizza again. Camille had lasted for only about half an hour before her head started to slump and I had to put her to bed. Before she dozed off, she looked at me, then grabbed my wrist.

  “I…am…sorry,” she said.

  I shushed her. “You need to sleep.”

  She had dozed off before I finished the sentence, and I had watched her sleep for a few minutes, wondering what the coming days and weeks would bring. Would I finally get some answers? Would I finally get to know what really happened to her and how it was all connected?

  Would she tell me the truth?

  Would I like what she told me?

  Would I love her again?

  It was hard to tell. I knew I would go far for Josie’s sake. I just didn’t know how far I was willing to go.

  “Good night, Daddy,” Josie said as I turned out the lights and left her room.

  “Good night, sweetie.”

  I closed the door and walked back into my own bedroom. I brushed my teeth and got out of my clothes. I liked to sleep in my boxers as I was usually very hot at night, so I ducked in under the covers and turned the lights off. Then I just laid there in the darkness while a million thoughts rushed through my mind. I was excited and frightened at the same time. It was a strange sensation. Was I ready for this? Was I ready to get Camille back even if it meant I got to know the truth about her? Could I handle the consequences?

  I believed so.

  I sighed and thought about Jean. I had been so excited earlier; I hadn’t even stopped for a second to think about how she felt about it. It had to be tough on her, even though she pretended to be happy for our sake.

  The thought made me feel terrible.

  No matter what I did, no matter how this ended, someone’s heart was going to be broken.